


First and Foremost.

by orphan_account



Series: Quarantine Fics [5]
Category: Glee
Genre: Caretaking, Comfort, Domestic, Fluff, Husbands, Love, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:08:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23860567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Fluff. Blaine taking care of Kurt when he's sick.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Series: Quarantine Fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687513
Comments: 13
Kudos: 63





	First and Foremost.

Blaine can tell Kurt’s not feeling well when he starts tossing and turning in the middle of the night. He rolls onto his side away from Blaine, lets out a frustrated sniffle, and then rolls back against the heat of Blaine’s body, where he tucks his face into Blaine’s shoulder and lays for a length of time Blaine’s brain can’t determine in it’s sleep addled state, before groggily standing up and heading towards the bathroom.

There’s some chemical balance linked between their bodies that never allows Blaine to fall back asleep if Kurt isn’t peacefully falling with him, so he stares at the ceiling and listens quietly for a while. When he doesn’t hear a flush of the toilet for quite some time, Blaine rises out of bed slowly and uses the light under the bathroom door to carefully guide him through the disorienting darkness of their bedroom.

He opens the door to find Kurt sitting on the floor with his legs crossed, slumped against the toilet with his forehead resting on the lip of the bowl, which is how Blaine knows he must be feeling really unwell, because he would scoff at how unsanitary that is in practically any other setting. 

Blaine's heavy eyes blink a few times to adjust to the light, eyelids crusty and aching. He runs a hand through his mop of rumpled curls, and his voice cracks low with disuse when he asks, concerned, “Kurt, honey? Are you okay?”

Kurt turns to look at him, face drained pale with a slight gleam of sweat and eyes red rimmed. “I’m sorry,” he croaks, and then his whole body visibly shutters. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Blaine moves into the small space. Nothing has the ability to break his heart faster than the sight of Kurt crying or near tears, and he knows how much Kurt hates the discomfort of feeling sick, especially during the night.

“It’s okay. What can I do?”

Kurt’s hands clench rhythmically around a clasped handful of his pajama pants. “I’m fine, Blaine. It’s just a stomach ache. You should go back to bed, you have your presentation early tomorrow.”

“My presentation will be fine,” Blaine replies gently. He would be surprised by Kurt’s capability to insist he’s alright when he looks ready to pass out at any given second, if he weren’t already so used to Kurt’s stubbornness. Sometimes he feels like it’s a third member of their marriage. “My husband, on the other hand, doesn’t look like he’s going to make it through the night.”

He leans down and brushes his lips against Kurt’s temple softly, and Kurt’s resistance is easy to break through tonight.

Besides, Blaine knows that as much as his husband has a difficult time accepting help (he feels greedy and selfish asking for things from others, which Blaine suspects comes from years of being told by the world that his natural needs and wants were wrong and predatory), he still yearns to be cared for in that simple, basic human way that’s difficult for him to admit to other people, even to Blaine sometimes, and it’s not hard to access that ache when his defenses are so low.

“Do you feel like you’re going to throw up?”

Kurt’s eyelids flutter closed as he tips his forehead back against the cold porcelain. “I don’t know. Not really. But I feel too nauseous to lay down-- this is the only position that doesn't hurt my stomach too badly.”

Blaine’s protective instincts kick into overdrive, and he works calmly, clinically, to gather a handful of items from around the apartment. A small pillow to prevent an ache in Kurt’s tailbone from sitting on the unyielding tile floor. A damp cloth to drape across his feverish forehead. A glass of water to set on the bathroom counter in case Kurt needs it.

He pulls a stool out from under the sink and settles on it beside Kurt. His hand is already halfway outstretched when Kurt hums into his arms, “Will you scratch my back?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Blaine smiles to himself, scratching his finger nails in light, zig-zag patterns down the firm plane of Kurt’s broad back, covered by his thin sleep shirt. The heat of his body is warm, and Blaine’s not sure if the gooseflesh that erupts over his skin is a result of Blaine’s touch or his stomach ache, but the tension in Kurt’s face seems to be unwinding slowly with every passing minute.

Blaine’s fingertips edge higher, sweeping into Kurt’s scalp and massaging the back of his head. The silence is filled only by Kurt’s slow, steady (if not a little shaky) exhales, and a random tune Blaine hums that he improvises the melody of.

At one point, Kurt whispers, “I love you” quietly, and Blaine’s stomach flips fondly and keenly sharp with deep love for the man in front of him, the one currently draped across the toilet with his hair breaking out in wild chestnut tufts that extend in a million different directions.

“I love you more,” Blaine replies, and even with a weakened, exhausted body, Kurt doesn’t hesitate to reach back and pinch his thigh.

It’s not the most glamorous way to spend time together, but then, it’s everything that being really, truly in love means. Caring for each other in sickness and in health without a second thought, at the darkest, quietest, most ungodly hours of the night. The last thought on Blaine’s mind is how tired he’ll be at his presentation tomorrow (or rather later today, he should say).

First and foremost in his mind, as it most often is and always will be, forever and ever, is Kurt’s health and well being.

And Blaine will sit there through dawn if he needs to, scratching and rubbing Kurt’s back till every one of his tired fingers falls off, to make sure he’s okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Short and sweet and soft all over. Thank you for reading <3


End file.
